Ambivalence
by queenly
Summary: Mutou Yuugi likes to get what he wants, even if what he wants is all that Kaiba Seto loathes. Rivalshipping.


**A/N: based on a conversation i had with my best friend (mikaelavevo dot tumblr dot com).**

Kaiba _hates_ that tone of voice.

He's heard it before; heard it on the days that've marked the release of new and exorbitant gaming consoles, heard it on the nights they've laid in bed beneath kisses of moonlight, and the rawness of his touch is beckoned by mewling croons of pleasure. He's heard it before, and he hears it now, and he hates it.

Nothing earns his attention but the tablet nestled in his lap. "No."

Beside him, Yuugi's head rests easy against his shoulder. The curtains drawn behind them block out would be stars, the only light source the flicker of nighttime television across the living room's far wall. They sit placidly in its glow, and Yuugi thinks Kaiba looks awfully cute in his plaid jersey pants and hair less than preened in the night's forgiving shield. But he doesn't allow it past his lips; in lieu, says, in _that_ voice, "It was just an idea. You don't have to shoot it down so harshly."

"You don't just have _ideas_ ," Kaiba bites, swiping a page further through the ebook. "You have an idea, and then the next day, it's an actuality."

"I'm ambitious," Yuugi laughs beneath his breath, because even he knows it's bogus.

Kaiba, evident by the whip of words, agrees with that. " _I'm_ ambitious. _You're_ a lunatic."

And Yuugi chortles another time, because perhaps it does teeter upon veracity. By no means is he confrontational, though this _idea_ is one he'd very much like to morph into _actuality_.

"What's the harm?" he murmurs. "I thought you liked cats."

"You thought incorrectly, then." Swipe. Page. Scan.

"But they're cute!"

"They're messy," is his argument. "They like to run their claws into expensive furniture, and piss on everything."

The voice returns, the one utilized at times of unrelenting want, times that inevitably conclude in the manipulator's favor- because Kaiba, he just cannot resist it. Sickening. "It gets so lonely, all by myself in this big house. You know, when you're at work, and Mokuba's at school. I just thought it would be nice to have something to keep me company."

Yuugi moves to look directly at his boyfriend, who still refuses to unlock his eyes from the screen at his lap. He'd sooner admit to his own ineptitude than display any sort of it here, now, by meeting his gaze of broken seaglass, of rainwater fading the lines in the street. Surely, if he looks toward him, he'll be shattered under those beautiful, resistance-warping violets.

So, he doesn't- and Yuugi pouts those pretty little lips of his. He sits back into his previous position, and sighs out, "Or we could have a baby, instead. I figured the cat is less of a commitment, though. "

Kaiba rolls his eyes; he's always doing that, it seems. "I'm not becoming a father at twenty years old. And like hell is a little fleabag ever going to be allowed into my home. Find something else to keep yourself entertained."

Entertainment, apparently, is found not an hour later, and they're twisted amidst the silk of sheets, moaning and touching and _burning_ all over. And the aftermath- Kaiba rests back against the coolness of the headboard, sated and spent, and Yuugi curls up against his side with eyes closed and mouth wide around a yawn. It's beautiful, this time spent so closely wound, breaths settling after heaves.

And then Yuugi ruins it.

"If we had a cat," he says after a swallow of air, "he could sleep right in between us. Wouldn't that be sweet?"

"That would be disgusting," Kaiba sneers. "It's not coming anywhere near our bed."

Yuugi alights suddenly. "Okay, deal. I'll keep him away from the bed. He can sleep downstairs."

"No, it's not sleeping anywhere, because we're not getting a damn cat." Kaiba's vexation illuminates, as he's taken notice of Yuugi's methods. He's launched his attack in Kaiba's most vulnerable state; post sex.

The perpetrator makes it clear his displeasure at his plan having faltered. Stage three sets into motion, one Yuugi almost feels bad about. Almost.

He tosses the comforter off of himself, standing to place his limbs into his clothing strewn over the bedroom floor. To Kaiba, he tosses his own pajama bottoms, and in response to being asked where it is he's headed to, tells him, "Put these on. You'll thank me later."

The room is left at population one. Kaiba hesitates, though slips his legs into the fabric despite it, and locates his black tee as well before sitting back atop the rumpled blankets. His expression drags into its perpetual gloom. Further so, when the room gains a second, though not of whom he expected.

Mokuba lands on his stomach in the center of the bed, resting his chin in two palms. He looks upward to catch his brother's stormy eyes, and grins with as much conviction as is conjurable.

"Hi, Seto."

Kaiba's glower does not deter him. "It's past your bedtime."

"It's only ten thirty," Mokuba waves him off, his swiveling of irises all too similar to another. The matter snaps back quickly to what lay at hand. "You know what I think we shou-"

" _No_." Glare fixes instead toward the one who leans a hip against the doorframe. "I don't care what either of you think. If you bring any sort of animal in here, I'm running it through my paper shredder."

Yuugi cringes internally at the image brought to mind. But, having dealt with his brother's attitude for fifteen years, Mokuba is savvy to precisely how to drill his way around it.

"Cats are proven to be good stress relievers," he says, playing idle. "And we all know how much you could use that."

The science behind his rationale is what halts Kaiba's tongue from lashing instantly; he's hardly a retort for it. He opts for, "Go to bed, Mokuba."

Which, of course, he does not. "I bet Yuugi-kun would be a lot happier if he had a friend to play with during the day."

"He's already the happiest bastard I've ever met," is Kaiba's finality, and before Mokuba can even think about his next point, he finds himself collected up under an arm and moving toward the door. On his way, Kaiba sweeps the ringleader of the whole issue up off his feet as well. He drops both of them down outside in the hall; they turn in tandem to the naked mahogany of the now closed bedroom door. Yuugi's palms perch at his waist. He huffs a length of exasperation.

"Don't worry, Yuugi," Mokuba assures him. "He's breaking, I can tell."

Regardless of how potentially malicious it sounds, it flames his mouth into a smile. "I hope so."

Mokuba nods with equal avidity, steals another glance toward the door. "You should probably wait until he falls asleep to go back in there, though."

Agreement- full, vehement. Toying with Kaiba is innocent enough, though they know dually that he's a firestorm if irritated beyond his tolerance limit. Unsurprisingly, this limit is low. Hazardously so. And Yuugi surely claims the intelligence not to disrupt him further; panacea for where to exist for the time being is following the other into the vast auditorium-esque room with the promise of enough Nintendo to make his vision blur.

And when he slips, much later, into his own bed again, and circles himself around his dear one's back, Kaiba does not stir from his rage induced sleep. Yuugi kisses him once on the cheek before settling against the sheets; he hopes, just to himself, that the next day's exploiting will result much more successfully.

* * *

Each passing work day grants him a new reason to bring cease to his own existence. Kaiba cannot stand that stupid look he's met with upon handing out the most elementary of requests, as if all of his employees have grown catatonic over night. He wonders, earnestly, if some of them have made use of their company health issuance benefits to fund lobotomies.

As much trouble as it brings forth, and as much as it nettles him enough to consider abandoning it entirely, Kaiba Seto's a businessman at heart. He's an affinity for the workplace despite every tribulation. He finds himself thinking, pondering, contemplating, as he's deftly entering digits into the security pad outside his front door, that he tends to fall in love with the things that cause him the most hassle.

And one of those things he sees immediately upon traveling the foyer and gracing the open den. Yuugi lay prone across the plush carpeting, knees bent into the air. In front of him, his partner in crime, as Kaiba so affectionately dubbed them; Mokuba rests in a similar position, grinning suddenly at what they study. The scene would send thrum to Kaiba's chest, if what they happen to be fawning over did not stop it cold.

Tiny. White. Layered in only a month's worth of fuzz growth. It mews pathetically once.

Kaiba clunks his metal briefcase to the hardwood at the entryway. Attention of two is captured immediately. Neither of them appear at all with the anxiety Kaiba would anticipate. Yuugi beams at his sweetheart.

"Hi, honey," he greets casually. "How was your day?"

Quiet- not reticent, not taciturn. Kaiba gazes a moment longer at the duo, _trio_ , on the floor. The furry little demon taps its paws against the carpet, looking widely at its surroundings. Again, it drools another piercing cry. Mokuba coos over the preciousness of it.

Without word, Kaiba claims direction opposite, taking the stairs as an escape from what is most _definitely_ a dream. Has to be. He ignores the call for him to return, trucks forward into his study where he plunks himself heavily into the rolling seat, elbows thunking to desktop, fingers gritting through brunette strands.

It's not but a minute later that the door creaks open. His instant reaction is to order in lethal depth of voice, "Get that _thing_ out of my office."

The _thing_ lay curled protectively against Yuugi's chest as he enters, and sits on the corner of the thick oak desk. He skirts fingers atop its head. "At least give her a chance to impress you before you say you don't like her."

Kaiba scowls. "You disobeyed my direct orders and smuggled that filthy rodent into my home, and now you expect me to _like_ it."

"Yes," Yuugi trills, knowing fully well it was not intended as an inquiry. "It wasn't on purpose, anyway."

"How?" he gawks, and this time, he _is_ asking something, "How the hell do you _accidentally_ adopt a cat?"

"We took a little detour after I picked Mokuba up from school- well, after Pinkberry, actually-" The kitten pads her feet against Yuugi's wrist, attempting to wriggle out of his hold. Keeping her corralled, Yuugi places one hand below her forearms and one beneath her rear, speaking in sweet coos while making eye contact with the animal. "And someone was giving this little baby and her siblings away. It was fate."

Kaiba's as far from gullible as one man can be. _Fate_ is synonymous with _planned_. He moves his palms to scrub over his tired, tired eyes. As much as he loathes the idea, he's close to certain that's fallen victim to defeat in this situation.

Close to certain becomes entirely certain when, at his elbow, there's a delicate nudging he almost overlooks. Hands move away, and he's left peering into the mug of a microscopic adversary. Its jaw opens to relay sound, though it borders on inaudible. He frowns at it.

Yuugi cannot repress his grin as he watches her sniff at the long fingers offered before her nose. By no means does Kaiba _like_ the little rat, though he supposes it could be much worse- it could be a dog. Kaiba wilts at the mere thought of that, and in comparison, he'd take the cat tenfold. Which is wonderful, considering the way it nudges its ears against his knuckles. His sigh is a light one as two fingertips skritch against her chin. Her eyes close in delight, chest vibrating with creaky purrs. They open again after a moment, and Kaiba notices then their shocking sapphire hue.

"What did you...call it?" he wonders in a mumble.

Yuugi observes them with all the adoration in the world. "We were waiting for you to get home to help decide that."

Sans true melody, Kaiba hums. His touch moves to stroke her back, tail swishing in his hand. "Aoimoku."

"Aoimoku?" Yuugi repeats. Humor and nonplus play into his expression. "Blue Eyes?"

Kaiba nods. "Suits her."

Bemusement finds Yuugi involuntarily because, really, he should have expected such a response. And he can't say solidly that he minds it. Especially when he spies the love of his life curling the fluff bundle into a palm and bringing her closer to him.

"Yeah," he agrees after a minute, "It does suit her."

Kaiba allows the kitten to paw her way up the front of his sweater, resting her feet to his fingers and her warm belly to his chest. Tiny wet sniffs dot at his face.

"You've warmed up to her awfully quick," notes Yuugi. Kaiba denies it by way of scoff, though shirks away from the hands that attempts to reclaim her.

Another chime of mirth. "Fine, fine. I'll let you two get acquainted."

As promised, Yuugi traipses from the office with a click of the door, and Kaiba can only _imagine_ what type of image-ruining jargon he's going to spew to his sibling now. He doesn't like the new addition, doesn't like how it came to be known as such, either, absolutely resents the way the pink tongue grates against the underside of his chin; Kaiba lifts her by the scruff and enters a staring match.

"I don't like you," he tells her, letting the hierarchy be known from the get go. She mews back to the words, and something inside of him melts to mush. Deep inside. In reply, he huffs, and rests her back to his chest. _Aoimoku..._

He supposes, with a name so bold, the creature won't be as bad as his initial opinion. And he supposes, when he wakes to find her curled up on the plushness of his comforter, between he and his reposed darling, that he won't force her away. Perhaps the ball of soft radiating heat is a nice addition to their bed- to their family, he dares. Slumber recoups him, driven toward by the lullaby of soft purrs and sleepy croons from the one aside him.

Kaiba decides this battle was one well worth losing.


End file.
